


Lost, Found, Fooling Around

by kikaikitai



Category: Transformers: Prime
Genre: Human AU, Humanformers, M/M, Old Fic Repost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 05:56:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7255225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kikaikitai/pseuds/kikaikitai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Experimental human AU TFP Wheeljack x Ratchet (Wheeler Jackson x Ramsay Wyatt). Based on setting established in RP where Wheeler is a car mechanic with a blunt sort of charm about him and Ramsay is an wealthy older surgeon possibly having a midlife crisis, lmfao. Contains adult language, references to sex and drugs (YEEHAW!), and one NSFW scene.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost, Found, Fooling Around

**Author's Note:**

> Old fic repost.

It was like they were magnetized. Always running into each other since they met. So they'd wait in line together or Wheeler would follow Ramsay, cracking jokes and making up obnoxious nicknames until the doctor groaned.

Then their meetings started being on purpose. Even if only to bug Ramsay at work or walk to the convenience store together during his break. Wheeler always wanted something spicy, and Ramsay was there to offer his spring water when he breathed fire.

"At least there'll be holes in your stomach to match the ones in your head," he said once as his companion chugged.

"Bet ya say that to all the guys in leather jackets."

Ramsay swiped his bottle back.

It was like this for a little while. At least up until the embarrassing one night stand. Wheeler tried to shrug it off as just some random wild gay experience and Ramsay filed it under "why on earth did I think a straight car mechanic would be good in bed? I must be an idiot."

After that they went on with their usual bullshit lives. Or tried to. Well. Ramsay could've gone to a different shop when his car broke down two months later. He glared a hole into the business card for seven minutes, the name Wheeler Jackson burning up in his eyes.

By the time the tow truck pulled his car there, he was ready to throw something at that stupid idiot for A) Not fucking fixing his car right the first time and B) Being a LOUSY FUCK!

But he wasn't there. Of course he fucking wasn't. Ramsay haggled the other mechanics even harder so he could ignore the realization that he'd wanted to see him. And that he was even angrier because he didn't get to.

That night he ripped up the business card and ordered a new bed spread online.

There. All better. He could just pretend it never happened.

Back in the hospital the next morning, Ramsay felt relief and a clear head. As the days went by, his mood got better and better. The nurses even commented on the spring in his step and were delighted when he joined them for lunch one late afternoon.

A lunch that lurched in his stomach when he rounded to corner to his office.

There Wheeler stood at his door with two fragrant bags of takeout, looking like the sorriest dog he ever saw.

Ramsay's teeth grinded, chest tightening, careless mood gone. He put up a hand to silence the other before he could begin explaining anything, practically stabbing the door with his key and waiting for Wheeler to go inside before slamming it behind them both.

He flicked the lights on in silence as Wheeler stood there, and finally took a very, very deep breath and turned to face him, arms crossed, waiting.

"I—" Wheeler started, fumbling a little. "The guys said you came by the shop. I felt bad, so..."

Ramsay's eyebrow ticked. "You felt bad," he repeated.

Wheeler glanced at the wall for a nervous moment. "I woulda given ya better service."

The doctor's hand went straight to his face. "Better service," he grumbled, voice half-muffled.

"Yeah, so—" Wheeler held up one of the bags of food. "I brought Thai."

Ramsay sat down heavily in his chair.

This was one of those "is this my life?" moments. Was he having a fucking midlife crisis? Messing around with some probably mid-30's piece of ass from a _car shop?_

_Ugh._

He heard the irritating rustle of plastic bag and peered through his fingers to see two heavy to-go soups being set down. He could already smell it.

Ramsay sighed sharply. "I have already eaten."

Wheeler was just about to set spoons and forks down. "Alright," he said, feeling like a colossal idiot. He put everything back into the bag and tied a tight knot.

Loud chatter passed through the hallway and they both remained still until it passed.

Another sigh. "Wheeler, what on earth are you doing here?"

The car mechanic stiffened before waving at the bag he'd just tied. "I just fuckin' said I brought Thai food—"

Oh boy. Ramsay tried to interject, "I _just meant_ —"

"We were doin' this shit for a while, I was ridin' all the way here just for lunch, meetin' up just to walk around—"

" _Wheeler_ , will you—"

"Then ya fucked me once and that's it, huh?"

Wheeler's eyes were bright, wound fresh in his voice. Ramsay stared uselessly before he pressed his palm into an eye, feeling a headache coming on. He stood and closed the blinds as more loud nurses passed by, and looked to his companion.

"It wasn't..." Shit. What could he even say? He didn't even really know what happened. It just... did. And it had sucked. He could've argued that Wheeler hadn't even tried to contact him either, but it wasn't about who was wrong.

"Whatever, Doc, enjoy the food."

Ramsay sidestepped around his desk quickly, grabbing the bag and pulling at the knot. "We are going to eat this _together,_ Wheeler."

Wheeler scowled, hands deep in his jacket pockets. "You said you already ate."

Ramsay waved a hand. "Salad."

The mechanic stared for a moment before sagging his shoulders. Finally he shuffled over to help with the bag. "Doc, look, now I feel like a jackass. I shoulda called or somethin' first," he said, grabbing the napkins.

"If you don't shut up, I'm going to send you down the hall for stitches," came Ramsay's affectionate threat, and Wheeler tried to keep from smiling.

He tore into the bag, finding a drink and stabbing it with a straw.

"Y'like Thai iced tea?" he asked, handing it to his friend, who stared at it suspiciously.

"These have a lot of sugar in them."

"Mmhm."

Ramsay gave him a look before finally taking a sip. His face looked like it was going to melt and Wheeler barked a laugh loud enough to startle whoever was in the hallway.

"Shh!" Ramsay threw a pitiful straw wrapper at him, which only made the laughter worse. The doctor grabbed him by the jacket, feeling riled up in wild way, a feeling he tried to push back behind the line of awareness.

"What, we in a no laughter zone?"

"Exactly," Ramsay said, right in his face.

Wheeler's hands dug into that lab coat but he smirked up at the doctor even more. "Too sweet for ya?"

"Quit yammering," Ramsay ordered, thumbing at the other's waist.

That shut him up alright.

Too sweet? Just maybe. Bad for his health? Definitely. Ramsay pressed his knee forward, putting agonizing pressure on Wheeler's crotch. His hands squeezed ass through worn out jeans. Wheeler groaned at the touch, feeling a jolt to his pelvis.

"Fuck," Wheeler warned as Ramsay nibbled at his collar. The scent of grease and oil and fumes radiated from the mechanic's clothes, making Ramsay crazy. He held his breath and rocked against Wheeler, still gripping his behind.

"If my car breaks down again, I want a membership discount," the doctor murmured into an ear.

"Huh?"

"I want a fucking discount."

"Alright, cool, get me some drugs then."

" _What?"_ Ramsay pulled back.

"I thought we were tradin'."

"No! Christ, no, I'm not giving you drugs."

Wheeler shrugged. "Thought it was worth a shot. Some Ritalin might get me through the work day."

Ramsay was certain his eyeballs were about to shoot into the back of his skull. He grabbed at the other's ass again and yanked him close.

The food was getting cold and Ramsay was getting hot. He wanted to eat Wheeler alive. Stupid grin and all. A glanced at the door. Fuck. He'd have to move fast before the interns started bothering him. His desk was already an unorganized mess at the moment, it wouldn't do to have Wheeler sit there. Maybe he could get him on that chair.

"Come here," he said quietly, stepping backwards towards his desk and pulling Wheeler along with him.

"Whoa, really? Here? "Wouldn't peg ya for public fuck—whoa—"

The mechanic tripped over Ramsay's foot and promptly nailed his head on the side of the desk with a solid thunk.

• • •

"Here, Dr. Wyatt."

"Thank you."

Wheeler looked at the nurse's butt when she finally walked away, and cut his gaze back to the man in front of him.

"Hey. Quit makin' that face," he said, and winced a little when Ramsay fixed the bandage into place.

"I am not making a face," the doctor said quietly, glancing to make sure no one was walking by. Dragging Wheeler into the ER out of nowhere had turned a few heads and he was paranoid of their gossip.

"You look like ya ran over a nest of baby birds."

Ramsay glared and felt his ears burning. "Well... I'm not so sure you should ride home."

"I took a cab here—'sides, I've had worse than a desk corner to my noggin, Doc."

Ramsay's eyebrow ticked at the nickname, and he paused in thought. "You are staying with me so I can keep an eye on your 'noggin'."

Wheeler looked like he was trying really hard not to laugh, then he blinked.

"You invitin' me over?"

Ramsay put his hands on his hips.

"No pizza for breakfast this time," the doctor said, grabbing his briefcase.

• • •

Once inside, Ramsay removed his coat and squinted at the thermostat. Was it cold enough to start using the heater? He kept forgetting to bring the small space heater inside. At the very least it kept his legs warm while he stayed up late reviewing and editing reports. But it might be nice for his guest's return.

He rolled his eyes at himself. Couldn't believe he'd brought this guy home again. He was getting too old for this shit, but he couldn't say no. He could never say no.

He looked to Wheeler who stood by the door with the takeout. It was definitely cold by now. And for Christ's sake, he could smell the cigarettes, cologne and car oil on Wheeler even stronger in here. He could get hard right then.

Slowly this time was probably for the best though.

"Go ahead and have a quick shower. I'll heat up the food. And don't get those bandages wet."

"What should I, uh—" Wheeler tried to make a gesture (could he ever talk without moving his body?) and Ramsay took the bags from him.

"Towels are above the geranium."

"Wow."

"What?"

"Nothin'. Pants?"

"I will handle that."

Wheeler smirked that fucking smirk of his and went up the stairs before Ramsay was able to get snippy.

The doctor exhaled. His new bedspread had _just_ arrived, cleansing him of his last sexual encounter. Fuck it. Maybe the reasoning was he was told old _not_ to do this. Why not enjoy it. He wasn't a young stud in medical school anymore. But he could still have fun. He'd have another story to tell Ulysses anyway.

He flicked the kitchen light on and got lost somewhere in the space between his atoms as he warmed their soups and rice on the stove.

Metal squealed as the shower faucet was turned one floor up. He pulled the iced tea out of the bag and glanced at the ceiling. Hm. He indulged in one more sip of syrupy sweetness before lowering the heat and covering their food. Upstairs he went, and slowly entered his room in case Wheeler was for some reason not in the shower yet. He heard the water running steadily and went to his dresser.

Ramsay was sure he had a pair of pants with a drawstring that could—there. Might be a little loose. But it was something clean. He scooped the dirty jeans and t-shirt up with a hum and caught himself smiling as he trotted down the stairs to his washing machine. He forced his mouth into more of a line and slammed the lid shut.

Timing as perfect as always, when he returned to the kitchen, the food was well warmed up and steaming again. The living room should be fine again, he thought, and set their meal up on the coffee table.

"These are nice pants, Doc."

Ramsay blinked and looked to the stairs where Wheeler hopped down in... He hadn't given him anything particularly fancy. How does someone respond to a pajama pants compliment anyway?

"Eat," Ramsay casually ordered the other, stirring his coconut soup. First all he could smell was their fragrant dinner, but now the lingering scent of bodywash was all he focused on.

Wheeler was all smiles as he sat and stuck a fork in rice. "Y'know," he started. "Didn't really, uh. Expect to be back here."

Ramsay found he wasn't really prepared to talk about it and for a moment he felt a little silly. There hadn't even been any time to talk about what had happened last time. It just kind of crashed and burned and he wanted to erase it from his memory. But—there was some kind of calm settling in him right now. He liked it.

"Well. As long as you _do_ want to be here, Wheeler..."

" 'Course I do."

The lack of delay jarred Ramsay a little bit. Of course he should've known by then that his companion wasn't exactly subtle. Did he still consider himself straight? Maybe it wasn't the time to bring that up. Labels scare a lot of men, Ramsay had learned in all his years.

"Thank you for the meal," he said simply. The two settled into small talk between the kind of silence you get when the food is _really_ good.

Wheeler sat back after a big gulp of water (his iced tea didn't make it but a few minutes into the meal) and exhaled contentedly.

Ramsay was downing the rest of his water as well. The spice seemed to add up and ambush the senses. It was incredibly satisfying.

"Fuck," Wheeler groaned at how full he was. Some sort of spark flickered in the doctor's chest.

"I can see why you eat this often," Ramsay said, pretending to be interested in the television remote for a second. He went up two channels for no reason and found that it wasn't as hard to relax and be still in the moment as he thought it would be.

"I got asked to be on one of these fake court shows, y'know," Wheeler said.

"They don't seem to have that big of a budget."

"No shit, they wanted to give me $50 for a whole day. I can make ten times that in half a day at work."

Ramsay snorted. "That is a wonder since you _failed_ to properly repair my car."

Wheeler sat up. "Hey, you were lucky I had your part. And I gave ya my favorite tires."

"Oh, _your_ favorite? Interesting."

"You're a fuckin' trip," Wheeler immediately said through a laugh.

Their eyes were only caught a moment before Ramsay had his hands on his guest.

Wheeler was sucking air through his teeth the second cold fingers slipped under his shirt. He pushed his body up, burning already. There wasn't even have the mental capacity left to question or try to defy it. All he had was a hard dick and a neck just waiting to be bruised.

Ramsay hummed against that clenching jaw as he kept his touch just barely there on Wheeler's abdomen, brushing and pressing but never for too long.

"C'mon," Wheeler finally rasped, boner practically tearing through his borrowed pajama bottoms. What a sight.

The doctor said nothing and let his teeth graze against hot skin just as his fingers slipped under the waistband of those poor pants. Within minutes he had Wheeler clinging to him and groaning into his shoulder.

"Fuck— _fuck!_ "

Ramsay moved his arm in a few more quick tugs before he let go completely. Wheeler gripped him and seemed to forget how to breathe as everything tightened up—yet there was no release. He panted dramatically, still aching and visibly straining.

"Didn't think you could make that one," Ramsay said with a smile before sliding his hand back down. He could've sworn Wheeler turned redder.

A slow start made him practically whine and when his breathing became erratic again, Ramsay pressed their foreheads together lightly, mindful of the bandages. (There was a fleeting, "is this fucked up?" that he chose to ignore.)

"There?" he asked in a low tone, squeezing his hand.

" _Shit—y-yeah—"_

Wheeler's body seized up, seeing stars in the ceiling when he finally came in Ramsay's tight grip. It took him a good minute of breathing to come back to the planet. He was spent.

Ramsay was practically about to ruin his own pants, and from the blatant staring, it was obvious Wheeler noticed.

"Hm," Ramsay hummed, turning to grab a spare napkin from their dinner to clean the exhausted mechanic on his couch. "I'm going to shower and finish a little bit of paperwork. You may sleep down here."

Wheeler grunted after a moment, "You're weird."

And Ramsay slipped into the banter naturally.

"And how am I the weird one?"

"Ya give me a handjob and tell me to sleep on the couch."

"And?"

"Last time I slept in your bed."

Ramsay gave him a look.

"Christ," he said, giving up. He stood up immediately. "Pull your pants up and get upstairs."

• • •

Ramsay awoke slowly. Once his ears registered the sounds of morning, he shot upright to squint at the clock. Wait. He had the day off.

As soon as he relaxed, he remembered that he hadn't gone to bed alone and was momentarily lost in the memory of fucking Wheeler on his lap. How late had they stayed up? He hadn't even touched his paperwork, had he?

He finally turned, only to find the space next to him empty. He tried to ignore the drop in his chest as he rose and tried to find his pants (they were all the way across the room).

Well, if Wheeler had already left, he shouldn't be disappointed. He was a grown man.

Going down the stairs, he was met with more silence and he really did think he'd been left alone. Things hadn't gone wrong this time, at least not from what he remembered. Right?

Might as well get the coffee started. He headed straight for the kitchen, and saw a figure just outside the sliding glass door to his back yard.

Wheeler stood out there with a cigarette in his fingers wearing only the same borrowed pants, and Ramsay would've been content to stare at his tattooed torso all morning.

When the mechanic finally noticed he was being looked at, he smiled and quickly stamped his smoke out.

"Mornin'," he said to the doctor when he stepped back inside.

"Good morning."

It was weird how easy this felt. If anything that's what made it awkward, in a backwards sort of way.

"Are you hungry?" Ramsay asked, going for cupboards.

"Yeah," Wheeler answered. "You're out of pancake mix, I already checked."

Ramsay gave him a look. "Well. It's almost lunch time anyway."

"Pizza?"

Wheeler and pizza. He had said no pizza. Fuck it.

"Yes," Ramsay snorted before grabbing a few mugs to rinse. "Pizza and coffee for my first meal. Why not."

He'd probably never understand why Wheeler's grin made him both angry and stupidly happy at the same time, and right now he couldn't care less.


End file.
